Page 108 of Knot Your Problem, Cowboy
She flinches at my touch but doesn’t pull away. Just coughs again, slower this time. Less frantic.
“Why didn’t you swim?”
She doesn’t answer. Maybe she can’t. But she’s breathing now, chest rising steadily beneath her soaked shirt, and it’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
“R-Ridge?” Her voice is barely there, scraped raw.
“I’m here. Not going anywhere.”
Terror and guilt twist in my gut like barbed wire being pulled tight. One second she was there, laughing, threatening to turn my goats into dinner, and the next she was gone. I’d looked away. Just for a moment, but it was enough. Almost enough to lose her.
“I-I don’t know how to swim,” she gasps, cheeks flushing.
God. She could’ve drowned. Right here on my land. Because I didn’t know. Because I didn’t think.
I cup her face gently, trying to steady both of us. Her skin is cold and slick with river water, but her cheeks are burning with embarrassment.
“Hey,” I say softly, brushing a soaked strand of hairfrom her face. “You didn’t do anything wrong, all right? This isn’t your land; you couldn’t have known how steep it gets there. But you scared the hell out of me.”
Her lashes flutter, water clinging to them. She looks so damn vulnerable that it tears at something deep inside me.
“I’m going to teach you how to swim, sweetheart. Personally. Okay? And get that fence up there damn fast too.”
“Okay,” she whispers back. “I’d like your lessons.” She blinks slowly, her eyes struggling to focus. “The goats… Harold pushed me…”
A weak, watery cough cuts her off.
“Harold’s going on a diet after this,” I tease, but it cracks like dry timber. “Actually, forget the diet. He’s getting turned into curry.”
A faint ghost of a smile curves her lips, and she’s laughing lightly.
“Ridge… I need to tell you?—”
“No.” The word rips out of me, too sharp. I try again, gentler. “No deathbed confessions. You’re not dying. I’ve got you.”
“I know,” she agrees softly, coughing again. “Just… need you to know…”
Something in her voice makes everything inside me still.
“Know what?”
“I feel it. The pull. The… connection to you, as strong as it is to Cash and Walker.”
Her voice is hoarse, but her grip on my hand is steady. Stronger than it should be after what just happened.
“Been fighting it since I got here,” she adds, her gaze flicking between my eyes like she’s afraid of what she’ll find there.
I’ve spent all this time convincing myself she didn’t feel it for me the same way. That whatever was happening between her and the others… it didn’t include me.
“I think we’re scent matches,” she whispers.
The words nearly stop my heart.
I glance down at our hands, trembling, hers so small wrapped around mine like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered here. And maybe it is.
“I can’t scent you,” I admit. The confession tastes bitter after holding it down so long. “Some days I think I’m losing my damn mind.”
Her fingers curl tighter, staring at me.
